


Without shame she knows and avows

by LiveOakWithMoss



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Allusions to abortion, Cousin Incest, F/M, M/M, Mentions of contraception, Talk of Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1927707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The grandchildren of Finwë grow up so fast. Fingon and Maedhros notice that their younger siblings are getting married. And stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without shame she knows and avows

“Curvo is to be married.” 

They were in the stables, rubbing down their horses and putting away their riding tack. They had been speaking vaguely of which was the preferred farrier in town, so Findekáno was not expecting this sudden change of topic.

He looked up in surprise. “What?”

“Curvo. He’s marrying that girl he’s been walking out with.” 

“So soon? Valar, I thought they’d only just started courting.” 

“Yes, well.” Maitimo’s face was studiously blank. “Father approved of the match. Once he got father’s blessing, why would Curvo wait even a day?”

“Ah.” Findekáno busied himself with a particularly stubborn buckle. “He is young to be wed, is he not?”

“Not so young as all that.” Maitimo poured a measure of oats for his horse, and stepped out of the stall, slipping the latch shut behind him. “It is hard to believe, but it has been a long time since our younger siblings were children.”

Findekáno let out a whistle. “Two of us now, betrothed. Curufinwë and Turukáno, off to be married men.” 

“And Makalaurë, soon, if my suspicions are correct.” 

“Makalaurë!” Findekáno was taken aback. “I did not know he was even courting anyone.” 

“You know him, he keeps things to himself.” Maitimo smiled fondly. “But I fancy I know him well enough to perceive when he’s in love. And I’ve seen him walking home from rehearsals with that pretty flautist – you know, that green-eyed Telerin girl who came up from the coast to study.”

“Goodness.” Findekáno was grinning though, as he hung up his tack and dropped down to sit on the cool stones of the stable floor. “We shall be the only ones left unwed, soon enough.” 

Maitimo didn’t smile. “Yes, and how shall that look?” 

Findekáno shrugged. “Who cares?” 

“Our fathers, most likely. As eldest sons, we should be producing heirs.” 

“Oh, that.” Findekáno looked at Maitimo speculatively. “I’m willing to try as hard as we can, but I don’t expect it shall be of much use.” 

“Finno,” said Maitimo, exasperated, but laughing despite himself. “Don’t you ever worry about such things?” 

“No.” Findekáno crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back. “What’s the use? I am as unlikely to produce an heir as I am to wed some suitable maiden. Even if I did do either of those things, it would be hardly fair to whichever maiden agreed to marry me, as I flatly refuse to give you up.” He nudged Maitimo’s boot. “So what’s the point? I can fulfill the duties of my house well enough without being a husband and father. If my parents want grandchildren, that’s what my siblings are for.” 

Maitimo sighed. “You truly are unaffected by worry, aren’t you?” There was a touch of envy in his voice. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Findekáno carefully. “But I do not count marriage and procreation – or my lack thereof – among my worries, no.”

“Soon enough we shall be uncles, I expect,” said Maitimo, giving in and sliding down against the stable wall beside Findekáno. Their shoulders brushed, sending a flare of electricity through Findekáno, but he resisted the urge to seize Maitimo and push him back into the hay. There were stable hands all about. “I don’t think it will be long after the wedding that we see children from our siblings.” 

“Or even sooner,” muttered Findekáno, without thinking. 

“What?” Maitimo looked at him. “What do you mean?”

Findekáno jerked upright, cursing his idiocy. “Nothing! Just babbling.” 

“Findekáno…” Maitimo was regarding him with narrowed eyes. “You’ve never been a very good liar.”

“What?” Findekáno stood distractedly and brushed dust and hay from his clothes. “I was just rambling, Nelyo, don’t mind me.” 

“But – ” 

“Have you seen the new archery butts Aikanáro has set up?” said Findekáno, ignoring him. “I’m thinking I’ll go try out that new long bow. Want to come?” He set off without waiting for an answer, and Maitimo followed, shaking his head. 

- 

It had been two days before that Findekáno had come into the kitchen to find his sister prowling like an angry cat. Her dark hair, usually carefully plaited and caught back in a net, was loose and in wild curls around her head. Findekáno had once joked that the more agitated Irissë got, the bigger her hair became. She’d staked his sleeve to the dinner table with a salad fork for that one, and so he made no comment when she drew level with him now, eyes stormy.

“Is all well – ? ” he began, but he winced as she reached out and seized his arm; her grip was painfully tight. “Ireth. What’s wrong?” 

“Is anyone else home?” she asked, voice tense. 

Findekáno looked over his shoulder. “…No, I don’t believe so. Why – ” 

“I wouldn’t usually choose you to talk to,” said Irissë, “but Artanis is away, and I can’t think – ” She raked her fingers through her hair, making it stand up in a wild halo around her head. “I need to tell someone.”

Findekáno sat at the table, and gently pulled her down beside him. “I’m here, sister. Tell me.” 

“You cannot – Whatever I tell you, you won’t tell Turukáno, will you?” 

“Not if you ask me not to,” said Findekáno, with growing concern. “But what’s – ” 

Irissë pursed her lips and looked at him like she was sizing up an opponent on the practice fields. He waited. “Irissë, will you just…” 

“I may be pregnant.” 

Findekáno broke off mid-sentence, eyes widening. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped, as the silence stretched on, so Findekáno swallowed his shock and reached for her hands. 

“Oh. Do you know for sure?” he asked, trying to be businesslike and comforting at the same time.

“No,” Irissë’s hands tightened on his. “But…I think it likely.”

He frowned, wishing he knew enough of such things to ask the right questions. “How will you know?” 

“Artanis will be able to tell. She would probably know with one look at me, which means Findaráto probably could too, which I do _not_ want to contemplate. So that means I must stay out of sight until Nerwen comes home and can let me know for certain…” 

“Have you thought about what you will do if she does discover you are with child?” 

Irissë dragged a hand across her eyes. “I cannot – I cannot imagine. It would be disaster.” 

“It is Tyelko’s, I assume,” said Findekáno, gently.

“Yes.” Irissë met his eyes defiantly. “Do you think less of me, for that?” 

“ _Ireth._ You know I am hardly in a position to judge you, right?” He gave her a pointed look, and some of the fire went out of her eyes as Irissë laughed. 

“Right. Of course. It’s just such a bloody stupid situation. Pregnant with my cousin’s bastard child, what on Arda was I thinking…”

“Have you told him?” 

“Of course not,” said Irissë forcefully. “He’d be such an idiot. He’d either flee in terror or try to convince me we should marry, or some nonsense like that, as if his father would ever allow him. As if we wouldn’t be the scandal of Tirion. As if we could survive being wed to each other for more than a week!” 

“ _Will_ you tell him?” 

“I suppose I must. Once I know.” Irissë sighed.

“And if you are pregnant – ” 

“Then Artanis will help me _stop_ being pregnant.” She jutted her chin and her eyes dared him to look shocked. 

Findekáno just nodded. “I understand.” 

Irissë clenched her hands in her lap. “I was careful, Findekáno, really I was. Essence of Angelica, the lemon extract… But Nerwen says there’s always a chance, and so one has to be cautious even – ” 

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” He held up his hands. “These things happen.” 

“It is all just so – so – ” A dangerous glint came into her eyes. “So Tyelko’s fault.” 

Findekáno agreed that this was likely. 

She looked up at him severely. “Never trust a man when he says he’s got good reflexes.” 

Findekáno nodded gravely. “I shall make sure not to.”

“You bastard,” she groaned, suddenly, dropping her head into her arms. “You are so lucky. It isn’t fair.” 

He patted her on the back. “It is a gift, to be able to carry life,” he attempted, “one I have often env – ”

“Findekáno,” she growled, “if you spew some nonsense about the blessings of womankind, I will kill you on the spot. You _arse_.” 

Findekáno grinned apologetically. “Sorry. I’m not very good at this.” 

“I used to think, hah, well, at least I’m not as scandalous as Findekáno,” she said, into her arms. “Bedding our male cousin, _and_ he’s father’s heir, at that. But _you_ can’t get pregnant with a bastard child!”

Findekáno tilted back in his chair thoughtfully. “I could say it was mine.” 

She raised her head, a horrified look on her face. “ _Ugh_.” 

“No, no, not like that!” Fidnkenao waved his hands. “You could go on a journey, have the child in secret, sneak it back to me, and I could pretend it was my bastard, see. That I’d gone out womanizing and gotten some poor maid pregnant, and she couldn’t care for it, so she brought it to me to raise. It will probably even look like me.” 

Irissë stared at him in deep disgust. “Sometimes I think you must have been dropped on your head as a baby. First of all, I would hardly be able to vanish for long enough to carry and birth a child without questions being raised. Second, I would never let you raise an actual child. You’d drop it in a well by accident your first day. Third, no one who knows you would believe you had ever womanized a day in your life.” 

Findekáno felt vaguely offended. “I could womanize. If I wanted to.” 

“No one who has ever seen the way you look at Maitimo would believe it for an instant. And thirdly,” Irissë went on, “even if you had gotten a poor girl pregnant, by some miracle of the Valar, no one would believe that you’d let her just vanish.” She smiled fondly, if exasperatedly at him. “Everyone knows you’re too honorable not to marry the mother of your child.” 

“That is a kind thing to say,” said Findekáno, touched. “Fine, you’re right, I cannot pretend it’s mine. I imagine Maitimo would have questions at any rate.” 

Irissë raised her eyebrows warningly. “You cannot tell him, Findekáno. You cannot tell _anybody_ , but especially not Tyelko’s brother.” 

“He’s discreet,” protested Findekáno. “He wouldn’t say anything if I asked him not to.”

“Right,” said Irissë skeptically. “And if someone told you Elenwë was with child and not going to tell Turno, what would you do?” 

“Be horribly conflicted,” said Findekáno. “Also, as has been pointed out to me, many times, I am a terrible liar, so anyone would be a fool to approach me with a secret like that. But I like to think – ” 

“Just consider that you are sparing Nelyo from any of those horribly conflicting feelings,” Irisse interrupted. “And consider further that your only sister asked you to keep her secret, and she will murder you in your sleep should you fail to do so.” 

“Message received,” said Findekáno hastily. “My lips are sealed. What now?” 

“Wait for Artanis to return,” said Irissë, and she sighed and laid her head down on the table. “Hide.” 

“I shall wait with you,” said Findekáno, stretching out his legs under the table and taking her hand in his. “Whatever happens, little sister, I’m here for you.”

“I know you are.” Irisse blew a strand of hair out of her face and smiled wanly. 

“And if you ever became the biggest scandal in Tirion, I’d just do something ten times more scandalous to divert attention back to me. You know how competitive I am.” 

“I do.” She smiled, her first true smile since he’d walked in, and pressed his hand to her lips. “Thank you.” 

- 

Maitimo was busy refletching a collection of well-used arrows as Findekáno practiced with the new long bow.

“The draw keeps throwing me off,” he was saying, rolling out his shoulders as he eyed the weapon balefully. “I must need to build up my arm strength.” He examined his forearms critically. “Do my arms look stringy to you?” 

“Yes, terribly,” said Maitimo absently, and ducked as Findekáno swiped at him with the bow. “I’m joking! It is probably the bow itself. It may loosen up in time,” he added, sighting down the length of one of his arrows and putting it aside, pleased at the result.

“Aikanáro said he hasn’t had any trouble at all with it. Is he lying, do you think, or does he truly have a stronger draw than I do?” 

Maitimo made a noncommittal noise and bent over his arrows. Findekáno gave a _tsk_ of impatience and turned back to the targets. 

“Finno!” 

Maitimo looked up as the call came and saw Irissë dashing towards them. Completely disregarding Maitimo, she leapt on her brother, laughing immoderately. 

Maitimo watched in fascination as she whispered something into Findekáno’s ear, and Findekáno’s eyes lit up. He grabbed her in his arms and swung her around, hugging her tightly.

“I told you you didn’t have to worry!” 

Still caught up in his arms, Irissë laughed and cuffed him around the ear. “You liar, you’ve been anxious as a cat for the past two days.” 

“Yes, well, I didn’t want to belittle your fears by acting unconcerned. I was only – ” 

“Oh, shut up.” She swatted him again and he dropped her to ground and pulled her braid. 

“Careful. I’m not afraid to fight a maiden.”

“Good. Because you’re likely to lose to one, too.” 

“Of course, when I say ‘maiden’, I mean it only in the rhetorical sense…” 

“Oh, 'ware, Finno, I am not afraid to break your nose.”

“Hah, well, I definitely won’t hold back now I know you’re not – ” 

“Hush. You are the least subtle…” There was a brief scuffle, a cry of outrage from Findekáno, and Irissë darted away, coming to hide behind Maitimo. 

“What in the name of the Valar is going on?” he began, but neither of his cousins seemed inclined to enlighten him. 

“Don’t worry about it,” said Irissë, stooping down and kissing him on the cheek. “Now where’s your brother?” 

“Which one?” Maitimo started to ask, and then shook his head. “Tyelko’s at the house.” 

Irissë gave him a dazzling smile. “Thank you. And you too, Finno.” She took off across the fields, light-footed and swift. 

Findekáno sat down beside Maitimo, grinning after his sister’s retreating form.

“Are you going to enlighten me?” asked Maitimo, giving him a sidelong glance. 

Findekáno draped an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his ear. “Not a chance. But don’t be surprised if Tyelkormo shows up with a black eye tomorrow.” 

“Why?” 

“Because Irissë’s off to teach him a little lesson about reflexes…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. Technically this falls within the arc of [You Drove Me Wild](http://archiveofourown.org/series/119550), but I can’t for the life of me decide where to place it (especially as it would throw off the pacing if one is reading the series all the way through). Therefore I am keeping it as a standalone for now. Input welcome!  
> 1\. This grew out of me being fascinated by the idea of elven birth control and the notion of pregnancy scares in a species that has so few children (and presumably a long and predictable fertility cycle). Tolkien was hardly one to imagine unwanted pregnancies among the Firstborn, so I shall do it for him. Because for every elf baby to be born wanted, there must have been some killer birth control going on behind the scenes. And every once in a while, that birth control must have failed. For more of my speculations on elven contraception, see: [1](http://imindhowwelayinjune.tumblr.com/post/91260699993/im-sure-this-has-been-discussed-before-by-greater), [2](http://imindhowwelayinjune.tumblr.com/post/91262502188/petitedilly-answered-your-question-im-sure-this), [3](http://imindhowwelayinjune.tumblr.com/post/91271539263/maywest-answered-your-question-im-sure-this-has), [4](http://imindhowwelayinjune.tumblr.com/post/91357345803/whatifimacrowdeddesert-answered-to-your-post-im) .  
> 2\. Title filched from Whitman’s unapologetically ejaculatory poem, “A woman waits for me.”


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